The Key to Rebecca - Ken Follett [129]
“Get in there, both of you.”
Kemel and Sonja went into the bathroom. Vandam closed the door on them and began to search the houseboat. He opened all the cupboards and drawers, throwing their contents on the floor. He stripped the bed. With a sharp knife from the kitchen he slashed the mattress and the upholstery of the couch. He went through all the papers in the escritoire. He found a large glass ashtray full of charred paper and poked through it, but all of the paper was completely burned up. He emptied the icebox. He went up on deck and cleaned out the lockers. He checked all around the outside of the hull, looking for a rope dangling into the water.
After half an hour he was sure that the houseboat contained no radio, no copy of Rebecca and no code key.
He got the two prisoners out of the bathroom. In one of the deck lockers he had found a length of rope. He tied Sonja’s hands, then roped Sonja and Kemel together.
He marched them off the boat, along the towpath and up to the street. They walked to the bridge, where he hailed a taxi. He put Sonja and Kemel in the back then, keeping the gun pointed at them, he got in the front beside the wide-eyed, frightened Arab driver.
“GHQ,” he told the driver.
The two prisoners would have to be interrogated, but really there were only two questions to be asked:
Where was Wolff?
And where was Elene?
Sitting in the car, Wolff took hold of Elene’s wrist. She tried to pull away but his grip was too strong. He drew out his knife and ran its blade lightly across the back of her hand. The knife was very sharp. Elene stared at her hand in horror. At first there was just a line like a pencil mark. Then blood welled up in the cut, and there was a sharp pain. She gasped.
Wolff said: “You’re to stay very close to me and say nothing.”
Suddenly Elene hated him. She looked into his eyes. “Otherwise you’ll cut me?” she said with all the scorn she could muster.
“No,” he said. “Otherwise I’ll cut Billy.”
He released her wrist and got out of the car. Elene sat still, feeling helpless. What could she do against this strong, ruthless man? She took a little handkerchief from her bag and wrapped it around her bleeding hand.
Impatiently, Wolff came around to her side of the car and pulled open the door. He took hold of her upper area and made her get out of the car. Then, still holding her, he crossed the road to Vandam’s house.
They walked up the short drive and rang the bell. Elene remembered the last time she had stood in this portico waiting for the door to open. It seemed years ago, but it was only days. Since then she had learned that Vandam had been married, and that his wife had died; and she had made love to Vandam; and he had failed to send her flowers—how could she have made such a fuss about that?—and they had found Wolff; and—
The door opened. Elene recognized Gaafar. The servant remembered her, too, and said: “Good morning, Miss Fontana.”
“Hello, Gaafar.”
Wolff said: “Good morning, Gaafar. I’m Captain Alexander. The major asked me to come round. Let us in, would you?”
“Of course, sir.” Gaafar stood aside. Wolff, still gripping Elene’s arm, stepped into the house. Gaafar closed the door. Elene remembered this tiled hall. Gaafar said: “I hope the major is all right ...”
“Yes, he’s fine,” Wolff said. “But he can’t get home this morning, so he asked me to come round, tell you that he’s well, and drive Billy to school.”
Elene was aghast. It was awful—Wolff was going to kidnap Billy. She should have guessed that as soon as Wolff mentioned the boy’s name—but it was unthinkable, she must not let it happen! What could she do? She wanted to shout No, Gaafar, he’s lying, take Billy and get away, run, run! But Wolff had the knife, and Gaafar was old, and Wolff would get Billy anyway.
Gaafar seemed to hesitate. Wolff said: “All right, Gaafar, snap it up. We haven’t got all day.”
“Yes, sir,